The Bloodpack
by Raven Silvers
Summary: [Pre-Blade II] My take on how the Bloodpack was assembled.
1. Part the First: Miami

There's entirely too little fics out there about the Bloodpack. This is my take on how they were assembled to combat the Blade threat.

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The Bloodpack  
Chapter 1: Miami

_Miami, Florida  
__United States of America  
__Circa AD 2000_

Chupa swore and gripped the steering wheel tighter; his knuckles were white, but he didn't care. The thrill of the race and the blood of a fresh young girl had set adrenaline loose in his blood. He glanced to his left, where the other car was racing neck-to-neck. There was a lot of money in the betting pool riding on his opponent, a big brute called — aptly enough — Brutus. Brutus also turned to look at him, and flipped him off, making sure the pureblood saw it.

Chupa snarled at the car window, while Brutus just grinned. They were nearing the finish line and were so close — he couldn't afford to lose this race. There was a lot of money riding on his loss, and Brutus had insulted him earlier. He gritted his teeth together as he pushed the car on, willing her to go faster than she already was. No-one insulted his family's Mexican heritage and got away with it.

They sped towards the finish. He could see the people now, mere blurs of color as the two cars passed them. He concentrated. If the car didn't give out on him before they got there, he stood a good chance of winning. And when he won, Brutus was going to be sorry he'd even —

"Fuck!" Chupa yelled as the whole car jerked to the right. His head cracked against the window and he swore again, this time in vampire dialect. The bastard had rammed his car! He worked fast to bring the car back to the road.

Okay, he was getting _really _pissed off now. As if that insult hadn't riled him enough already.

He glanced at his right. Brutus was grinning like an idiot, obviously quite pleased that he'd been able to catch the "damn Mexican" off his guard. Of course, he had ignored the fact that Chupa had been born and raised in Miami, and that his family wasn't even _from _Mexico. They were from Puerto Rico.

"Screw you, shit-kicker," Chupa growled. He hated to do this to the car, but his pride was wounded and that had to be corrected. He turned the steering wheel all the way to the left and he felt the car obey his instructions. He braced himself for the impact and he heard the satisfying _crunch _of the two car exteriors ramming into each other. Chupa grinned and it was his turn to flip Brutus off.

* * *

The crowd was more excited than a group of vampires with bloodlust. They were all trying to guess which car would finish first. _And they have good reason to, _Asad thought as he lingered at the back. Their money was riding on the red car. It also happened to be the car that Asad was watching like a hawk.

There was a deafening cheer as it, quite predictably, crossed the makeshift finish line first. Lots of bills exchanged almost as many hands, and girls swarmed the driver as he stepped out from the car. From somewhere near him, Asad heard a teen yell to his friend, "He always comes in first! Best in Miami, I tell you, best in town!"

Chupa was revelling in the attention and someone shoved their way to him, to pass him the prize money. Ten grand American, Asad had heard, probably more. The yellow car rolled to a stop in the other lane, and Chupa made a rude gesture at the driver. The other man just glowered at him.

Asad pushed his way through the crowd. "Chupa!" The pureblood vampire didn't hear him. "Chupa!" There were at least a dozen people yelling Chupa's name, so Asad changed track. "Chupa! I need to speak to you!" he yelled in a vampire dialect. He got the expected result. Chupa's head snapped up at that; most of the crowd were humans, so there was no way that any of them were the ones who'd spoken. Then he saw Asad, and disentangled himself from the swooning girls.

"Who are you?" the younger vampire demanded.

"I represent Overlord Eli Damaskinos," Asad explained. "I need to speak to you. In private."

Chupa nodded. He knew better than to question the authority of the one of the most ancient vampires. He led the way to a quiet corner in the shadow of a nearby building, just as the after-race party began in full swing. With Asad's black garb and Chupa's racing leathers, they became one with the shadows.

"I'm sure you know of the Daywalker," Asad started. Chupa growled in response. "Damaskinos is forming a team that will train to hunt and kill Blade. He wants someone from your House, and you're the only son." He produced a truce key from his pocket, a fairly large cylinder with vampire glyphs engraved in the metal. "Do you accept?"

"Gladly." Chupa almost snatched the truce key from Asad. He'd lost friends to the Daywalker.

Asad seemed pleased. Again he took out something from his pocket; this time, it was an envelope. "Everything you need is inside. Air tickets, contact details, everything." He handed it to the young warrior. "Be there." Chupa nodded and slipped both items into a pocket of his leathers. Asad nodded curtly and turned on his heel, leaving the race-winner in the shadows as he disappeared into the crowd.


	2. Part the Second: Edinburgh

**The Bloodpack  
****Chapter 2: Edinburgh **

_Edinburgh  
__Scotland, United Kingdom  
__Circa AD 2000 _

Asad lingered in the shadows of the building, listening as the sound of an all-out brawl raged on inside the pub opposite. He had no taste for such sport, if it could be considered as such.

He had landed in Edinburgh last night. Unlike Chupa, Priest was not a hard man to find. Just follow the trail of broken bones and wrecked bars, and he would surely be at the end of that trail.

He was the last remaining son of a rather influential vampire family based in Edinburgh. His family had a long history of warriors and it was said that Priest was no exception. The only change was the setting; he was notorious for taking part in brawls. Whether he started them was a subject open to debate.

A chair flew out of the window and landed on the street, splintering on impact. Asad raised a brow as a man quickly followed the way the chair had gone, landing with a loud "oomph!" and a few choice words. He quickly got up and went through the window again, no doubt tackling an unfortunate man to the ground.

Asad sank back into the shadows. He was not eager to become part of this fight.

* * *

Priest was passing the broken window when something heavy and hard landed on him. Hitting the ground, he narrowly avoided being impaled by a broken bottle. He cursed loudly and threw the man off him.

When he stood up, he was surprised by a solid punch to the face. He cursed again, this time more violently than before. He reacted in kind and he was rewarded with the satisfying crack of bone even as he moved to the door, which was hanging at an odd angle.

He grinned. He revelled in the chaos, but it was time for him to go. Off in the distance he could hear the first wailing of a police siren. His family would kill him if he was arrested again.

"I'd love to stay and play," he said, bowing from waist down, "But I'm afraid I have to run."

He ducked out the door, narrowly missing being bowled over by a thrown man.

Priest grinned as he headed out into the street, partially from the thrill of the fight. He had a nasty cut to several parts of his body, but they would heal before tomorrow night.

Immediately he noticed the figure in the corner. His hand strayed to his side, where his Berretta was. He disguised it by making his movements look as if he was touching his side, and added some cursing to complete the effect — he looked as if he had been injured.

He added a stumble to his steps and headed across the street, as if he was heading home.

"You're not fooling anyone," the figure said. Priest straightened and drew his gun, holding it near him and stopping his advance in the middle of the street.

"Who're you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"I am Asad," the figure said, stepping out into the streetlight. "I am in the service of Overlord Eli Damaskinos."

He recognised Asad. "We've met before."

"I was at your cousin's wedding four years ago," Asad nodded.

"No-one's gettin' married now. What are you doing here?" Priest asked, replacing his gun back in the holster.

"I have a proposal from Damaskinos," Asad explained. From his pocket he produced a truce key, one that Priest had seen only once before. "You know Blade." A low hiss confirmed his information. "He killed your brother in America. Recently he's become more of a threat than ever. Damaskinos is forming a team to track and kill Blade. He wants you to be part of this team."

Priest practically growled in response. "Yes."

Asad held the truce key out. Priest took it from him, barely sparing a glance. "So, when, where and how?"

Damaskinos' lieutenant passed him an envelope. "All the details are inside." Priest glanced over his shades and ripped the top of the envelope open, glancing through its contents.

"I'll be there," he confirmed. Asad nodded and both of them glanced at the end of the street. The sirens were getting louder.

As Priest took off in the other direction, he glanced over his shoulder. Asad was gone, blending again with the shadows.


	3. Part the Third: Vienna

**The Bloodpack  
Chapter 3: Vienna**

_Vienna  
Republic of Austria, Central Europe  
Circa AD 2000 _

Vienna was a lovely place, full of history — human and vampire alike. Beethoven had been influenced by his dealings with the vampires based there.

There were five main families plus almost a dozen smaller ones who lived in Vienna and in the surrounding areas. Each family had at least one person who claimed to have known the legendary composer. Only a few could actually prove that fact, but it was always a topic to brag about in family meetings.

Verlaine's family was not sure where she was, or even if she was in the country at all. Since her sister's murder two years ago, she had been on a vengeful hunt for Blade's death. More times than not she had left Vienna without telling her family, and when he had visited the night before, her mother had been frank: they were not even sure if she was alive.

It had taken some work, but he had narrowed his search down to the Hofburg Palace. She had been spotted entering the National Library just before closing time.

As Asad walked swiftly but quietly through the halls of the grand palace, the sounds of a fight began to reach him. He moved slowly now, towards the noise. Word on the street was that a cell of a vampire-hunting group known as the Nightstalkers were active. Verlaine had apparently chosen to hunt them down.

He turned a corner and ducked as a bullets whizzed past his head, hitting the volumes that lined the shelves around him and shredding them. Shredded paper flew around him, drifting to the ground like snowflakes.

* * *

Verlaine chased after her prey, firing her Colts as the last two remaining of the damnable Nightstalkers raced through the shelves. She gritted her teeth and dove for cover as gunfire was returned. 

Of the twins she had always been the smaller one, and even in adulthood Racquel had been a few inches taller than her younger twin. But it was Verlaine who was not to be underestimated, because she was the one who had more experience with guns and fighting.

With her back to a shelf, she pulled out a clip of ammo from her utility belt and slapped them into her guns. Glancing over the edge of the shelf, she fired. She was rewarded with the familiar sound of a dead body hitting the ground.

She allowed herself a small smile and blew some bright-red hair out of her face. Five down, one to go.

Verlaine charged from her spot, firing wildly, a war-cry on her lips. Most of her bullets missed their intended target, instead hitting the closest volumes. She noted the black man who had ducked behind another shelf.

She sniffed the air, trying to determine whether he was friend or foe, but it didn't work. She couldn't smell him at all; there was just too much of the tangy copper of fresh blood.

Her opponent apparently decided it was time to face her head-on and came out from his hiding place, getting ready to fire. She was faster and took him in the knee, then in the arm. He went down with a cry of pain, unable to move.

She advanced like a tiger, slowly but surely. She placed one foot on his chest to stop him from struggling, and their eyes met; her black against his blue. There was no fear in his eyes, and she respected that. More often than not she had seen terror in the eyes of her prey, and some of them had actually wet themselves.

Verlaine respected that. She pointed the business end of one gun between his eyes and squeezed the trigger. He went limp under her feet and she stepped back.

"I know you're here," she said to seemingly no-one in particular. "Come out." She raised her guns.

Asad stepped out from behind his shelf, hands held at the level of his head. "I come in peace," he answered in hesitant German. He switched to vampire dialect. "I am Asad."

Verlaine relaxed and lowered her gun. Definitely vampire, then. "Did my parents send you?"

Asad shook his head, stepping over a dead body. "No. I come on business of Overlord Eli Damaskinos'. He seeks to form a group that will hunt and kill the man who murdered your sister." Verlaine's eyes narrowed in anger. She had been close to Racquel and her death had marked a new stage for her.

"So you've come to ask me to join," she finished for him. Asad nodded and from his pocket, took out the familiar truce key. He held it out to her in an unspoken question.

She studied it for a moment, then took it. Asad nodded. He knew Verlaine would not say no; Racquel's death had had too profound an impact for her to say otherwise. He pulled an envelope from another pocket. She took this from him also, turning it over to see if anything was written on the back.

Finding nothing, she looked back up at Asad. Between them they nodded, and then she watched as he turned and disappeared behind the bookshelves.


	4. Part the Fourth: Copenhagen

**The Bloodpack  
****Chapter 4: Copenhagen **

_Copenhagen Zoo, Copenhagen  
__Kingdom of Denmark, Northern Europe  
__Circa AD 2000 _

The animals sensed his approach, some of them snarling, others scuttling for cover. They knew of his base nature and Asad made sure to walk in the middle of the path, in order not to startle the animals too much.

The Copenhagen Zoo was closed, but Asad had gained entry by sneaking past the guards; with his superhuman abilities, this wasn't too hard to accomplish. There were bound to be a few men around, but he was not concerned about them. Most likely the others would be unconscious somewhere in the compound.

Asad entered the section dedicated to the big cats. They woke up and slinked to the edge of the cages, growling loudly.

The mighty beasts snarled and hissed through the bars and Asad stopped. To his left, a cheetah paced up and down the front of its cage, watching him with keen eyes. Eyes of a predator.

The vampire studied it for a few minutes, not moving from his spot. The other cats decided that he was no threat and stood down, retiring to the comfort of their sleeping spots. They were still awake and watched him, ready to leap up and try to maul him if he got too close or tried anything.

He stared at the cheetah, eye-to-eye. The cheetah stared back, and this went on for several minutes. Eventually the feline couldn't take the intense stare of the vampire any longer and moved away, growling.

* * *

Lighthammer heard the approach of the other person before he could see or smell him. He gave no indication and continued scratching the back of Axel's ear. The mighty tiger purred in response and rested its head on his lap. 

His war hammer rested on the cage next to him, never far from reach. It reared up to lick his face and the Samoan tattoos inked on it. Lighthammer closed his eyes and let his favorite cat show its affection for him.

His family had not been thrilled at his facial tattoos. He had returned from Samoa almost a year ago, but he was still considered the vagabond of the family. And truth be told, he wasn't all that averse to it.

Axel stopped licking his face and went back to its position reclining on his lap, purring as Lighthammer patted its side. "Good boy, Axel. Good boy."

It rolled over in response. Lighthammer rment before picking the two items up with its teeth and heading back its favorite man.

He took the cylinder from Axel, petting its side in a gesture of thanks. He gave a slight nod to Asad, giving his affirmation. Asad nodded. He could trust the Dane to be at the meeting place at the time indicated.

Lighthammer scratched the back of Axel's ear again, feeling the feline relax and stretch out. He watched as Asad turned to go, passing the snarling and hissing cats. He ignored them, as Lighthammer had during his early visits.

Axel swiped lazily at the truce key. Lighthammer held it out of its reach, looking after Asad's retreating back. The other man turned a corner and disappeared from sight.


	5. Part the Fifth: Beijing

It seems that everyone is looking foward to getting to Snowman's part. And here I was, thinking I was the only one who liked him, heh. But yes, I hope I will not disappoint anyone.

Vince'sbabygirl: I know Matt Schulze is of Native American descent. :) I wanted to include that at first, but in the end I stuck to the script. It describes him as being Puetro Rican, and I think it's more important that we stick to canon. Since, after all, the Bloodpack is a rich and diverse group. :)

* * *

**The Bloodpack  
Chapter 5: Beijing**

_The Great Wall of China, Beijing  
__People's Republic of China  
__Circa AD 2000_

Asad was glad nightfall had come. Upon arriving in China, he had been struck by how oppressive the heat had been. He had traveled much in his life, mostly on Damaskinos' errands, but the weather here had to be the worse he'd encountered so far.

He was used to Prague's climate, and it wasn't anything like this. A breeze was picking up. It was a welcome relief from the warmth of the night.

He was strolling along the rugged terrain of the Great Wall of China, a monumental piece of world history. He was approaching the fourth tower at a steady pace, even if he found the terrain challenging to cross.

He had been told that Snowman could be found here. Originally he had traveled to Japan but had been informed that Snowman was part of the Chinese branch of the Kobejitsu family.

His uncle had been in part of the ill-fated House of Erebus two years before. As such, his father was now head of the family. Snowman was no Death Ninja — that title was reserved for the Japanese side — but he knew that he was a deadly warrior in true Kobejitsu tradition. Word on the street was that he was deadlier than the best Death Ninjas.

Asad kept walking. Snowman was on the sixth tower, and it would be some time yet before he reached that.

* * *

Snowman's mind registered a breeze picking up from the west. It ruffled his loose clothing but didn't bother him. He looked out from his post at the top of the sixth watch-tower. He never looked at the closed booths and little kiosks that dotted one side of the Great Wall; his favorite spot had been commercialized, and that saddened him. No, he looked out the vast plains that once were inhabited by the fierce Xiongnu tribes of the north, so many decades ago. 

Two hundred years had passed since the first time he came here. He had loved it then because of its quiet tranquility and distinct lack of peopleTourists brought their cameras and video recorders, but hardly anyone stopped to actually _look _at the scene on the other side of the Wall.

His eyes were closed to let himself feel what it was like to be part of the wind, his nose picked up a scent. _Vampire, _he identified, opening his eyes. It was no use to try to see who it was, since his eyesight was only slightly better than a normal human's.

He drew his sword from its scabbard. He dueled with the shadows, waiting for whoever it was to approach him.

Asad trudged up the last of the slopes that led to the sixth watch tower. He paused at its foot, looking up to the partially-ruined roof. There was a single figure there and he heard the _swish _of a blade cutting through the air with practiced precision. The moonlight glinted off the edge of the katana and wakizashi as Snowman whirled them with expertise.

There came no sound from the blades' bearer; Snowman was mute, one of the very rare genetic anomalies in the bloodlines. He was mute and had ocular albinism. It would be a fatal mistake to underestimate him, though; he had worked hard to make sure he was the best fighter he could possibly be.

Asad entered the watch tower. He ascended the stairs, drawing his own sword silently as he did so. Snowman gave no indication that he knew Asad was there. Perhaps he didn't know at all; after all, his eyesight wasn't as good as his own, maybe his other senses were too.

He snuck up behind the Asian, his footsteps making no sound. Absently he realized that Snowman had no shadow, unlike himself or members of the other families. He swung his blade —

— and Snowman whipped around, catching it with his own. The clang they made echoed through the silent night.

They stood like that for a while, glaring at each other, the edge of their swords pressed together. Finally, Asad chuckled and drew back. Snowman seemed amused as he replaced his sword.

"You haven't changed, Snowman. Your senses are as sharp as ever," Asad smiled. Snowman inclined his head in a sort of half-bow. His cat-like eyes, yellow in color, asked what he was doing in China.

"I'm here on business," Asad informed him. He removed the truce key from the small rucksack he was carrying. "You know the Daywalker Blade has been active in Moscow and other parts of Russia."

Snowman nodded. He had heard the news; Kobejitsu forces were on red alert in case he decided to move downwards into the rest of Asia.

"Overlord Eli Damaskinos had decided that the Daywalker threat has become too large for our kind. He wants you to be part of a group that will serve to combat and, eventually, eliminate him." The wiry man raised a brow, as if wanting to know why he was wanted. "He thinks that your skills would be an invaluable addition. I think so too."

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Asad had always been in praise of his abilities, never really looking into his own. He was a fierce warrior in his own right, and they were almost equal in skill.

Asad held out the key. Snowman studied its surface, noting the hieroglyphics inscribed into the metal. He looked up at Asad's face.

He took the key. Asad nodded.

"This contains all the details you'll need to know," he said, withdrawing an envelope from the rucksack. He handed it to Snowman. "Plane tickets, contact details, everything."

Snowman nodded. He examined the contents of the envelope; all of it checked out. He looked up at Asad, who was already turning to leave.

"I'll see you around, Snowman," Asad said as he disappeared down the dilapidated steps. Snowman watched him go and turned to see him emerging from the foot of the watch tower. He watched until Asad became a tiny dot on the dark horizon.


	6. Part the Sixth: Vladivostok

**The Bloodpack  
Chapter 6: Vladivostok**

_Vladivostok  
__Russian Federation, Asia  
__Circa AD 2000_

They had not been kidding when they said organized crime was a big problem in Vladivostok, Asad reflected. He was being led along a shipbuilding yard by two burly Russians who looked like their fists could inflict more damage than the Uzis they carried.

Dieter Reinhardt was a difficult man to locate. After getting Verlaine, he had scoured the city for any remaining members of the Reinhardt family. After a few days he had discovered that Reinhardt had last been known to be headed for Germany.

Asad had traversed Berlin in search for Reinhardt. It had yielded no results, but a Prague source informed him that Reinhardt had been spotted in Vladivostok. Asad had only been in Russia once. He had read up on the city while still in Germany.

Organized crime was a particular problem, and Asad believed that now. He had asked to see Reinhardt, who he had learnt was Vladimir Borodin's right-hand man. After a suspicious look-over and body search by the guards, he had been allowed inside the shipyard. They were heading to Borodin's office now.

Any vampire families that had lived here had since moved out, most likely from the pollution. Two-thirds of the city was barely habitable. It made it the perfect place for a traumatized youth like Reinhardt to disappear to.

The double murder of Reinhardt's family had been a tragedy. All of the European Vampire Nation had been shocked to the core when news spread that Kurt Reinhardt had murdered his wife of ninety years, only to be killed by his vengeful son Dieter less than ten minutes later. It had been a nightmare to sort out all the details so that Damaskinos would know the exact truth. Even now no-one really knew exactly what had motivated the older Reinhardt to attack his wife with a chopper.

One of his guards said something in Russian, but Asad didn't understand. He spoke no Russian. The guard gestured at the door in front of them. Through crude sign language, he determined he was supposed to go inside.

* * *

The men had contacted them earlier to say that Reinhardt had a visitor. Borodin had given the affirmative that this mysterious man should be let in. They had not given any names, and they waited to find out just who this man was. 

Reinhardt was bored out of his mind. There were no inter-mafia wars going on right now so he had no excuse to kill people. He suppressed a sigh as he played with his signature blade-guns. He had no idea who would want to see him; at least, not anyone human. He reckoned that there were still some purebloods out there who would want to find out what had happened in Berlin.

The door opened and their visitor entered. A whiff of his scent and Reinhardt knew he was a vampire. It was a subtle gesture, but he stiffened in his seat. The humans in the room did not see it. They _could _not see it.

"You!" Borodin barked at Asad, his accent heavily Russian. "Who?"

"He knows." Asad looked directly at him. Borodin turned to his lieutenant, expectant.

"Yeah," Reinhardt muttered, keeping his eyes on the other vampire. He turned to Borodin. "He's clean. I'll take care of him." He knew Borodin had been having dinner with one of his many whores. It was no secret that the crime lord wanted to get back to his meal, and he left the room, leaving them alone.

"Who are you and what the fuck do you want with me?" Reinhardt demanded. He spoke in English.

"I am Asad. I'm here on business of Eli Damaskinos'. You remember him?"

Reinhardt leaned back in his chair. "Yeah. Five thousand years old, leader of the families, lotsa power and influence, blah blah blah. What's new?"

"The Bloodpack."

"The _who_?"

"The Bloodpack," Asad repeated. "A group Damaskinos is forming to tackle Blade. You know him, don't you?"

Oh, Reinhardt knew. Knew too well, because he had been in Moscow two years before when Blade had torn through the city with his guns and sword and hate for all vampires. Hundreds had been killed. Reinhardt had left town a day before his own hotel had been purged of all vampiric presence.

"What's in it for me?" Reinhardt asked. Asad almost sighed, but he kept that at bay. He had been warned by Reinhardt's old friends that he was stubborn and lazy. Stubborn had been a point much emphasized.

"Recognition of your family name," he said, at length, "After all, the Reinhardt line was denounced by many families after your parent's deaths." Reinhardt yawned loudly. Obviously that held no appeal. "And a seat on the Shadow Cabinet with the power to influence the decisions of every family in the Vampire Nation."

That caught his attention. He straightened in his chair again, looking sharply up. Inwardly Asad smirked; he had the bait and the hook, now all he needed was his fish to bite.

"A seat on the Shadow Cabinet," Reinhardt repeated slowly to no-one in particular. It sounded good; almost too good. But it was pretty obvious that Damaskinos wanted him on this Bloodpack endeavor, even though his family was in disgrace. The name Reinhardt was almost forgotten, and he rather liked it that way; but a chance to be one of the most powerful men in all of Europe...Hell, in the entire _world_...

Asad extended a hand, holding the truce key. "Take this and you accept. Say no, and I give this offer to someone else. There are still a few families left in Moscow."

"I'm yours." Reinhardt almost snatched the key from him. "Where, when and how?"

Asad handed him an unmarked envelope. "Details are inside. Be there."

"I will," Reinhardt said gruffly. His tone obviously indicated that the conversation was over. Asad turned and pulled open the door, stepping outside into the cold and dark. It didn't take long for him to fade out of Reinhardt's sight.


	7. Part the Seventh: Prague

**The Bloodpack  
****Chapter 7: Prague**

_Prague  
__Czech Republic, Central Europe  
__AD 2002 _

The roads leading out of Prague got progressively bumpier, but that didn't really shake the occupants of the large black van that was heading towards a cluster of warehouses on the outskirts of Prague.

Asad was driving. Next to him sat Nyssa Damaskinos, as regal as her father even in tactical gear. He glanced at the rearview mirror, casting a discreet look at the Bloodpack. They were seated in the back.

Chupa and Priest had hit it off almost immediately after their first meeting. "I sense the beginnings of a long and wonderful friendship, Chupa," Priest had said to the other vampire when the Bloodpack had first met each other. As usual, they were making rude jokes about Blade. Regular bouts of laughter sounded from the back. Snowman signed something to Chupa, and the American snickered.

Verlaine was listening in, very much amused. She was still somewhat sulky about having to work with her sister's killer, but that was to be expected. None of them were very happy with the arrangement either. Her relationship with Lighthammer was no secret — they too had hit it off almost immediately. He never showed affection to her in public, but there could be no doubt about how he felt about her. There was just somethingthat came off the both of them that seem to announce they belonged to each other. The huge Dane was also protective of Verlaine. Priest had made a comment about her once and Lighthammer had spent the rest of the day scowling.

Reinhardt had, through an unspoken agreement early into their training, become their leader. Asad conferred with him the most. He had been surprised that of all the Bloodpack members, Reinhardt had been chosen as their leader. Granted, not all of them were leadership material, but Reinhardt had been the last Asad had expected.

None of them had been very happy to discover that their aims had, for the time being, shifted to working _with _the Daywalker instead of against him. Verlaine had been the most upset and Lighthammer had been influenced by her moods, not that thatwas uncommon. Priest and Chupa had voiced loudly violent protests. Snowman was disgruntled, but he accepted the assignment with grim resignation. Reinhardt had also voiced strong objections, but they had no choice. What Damaskinos said they do, they did. They didn't really have much of a choice.

On reflection, Asad found that they had taken the news quite well. Nothing had been blown up or was damaged too badly. Even if Reinhardt, Chupa and Priest had savagely riddled a few of their test dummies with bullets.

They had grown in the past two years. Asad had spent much of their second year of training with them, and the change was remarkable. Their trainers had also reported that many of them had matured, especially the two pranksters of the bunch, Priest and Chupa. As a whole they were still volatile, but they worked together well and the chemistry and trust between them was amazing.

The Bloodpack were the finest of the Vampire Nation. While not quite subtle enough to handle inter-family politics or the Shadow Council, Asad was sure that one would be hard-pressed to find a better fighting force in Europe. And who better to assure the survival of their race? He felt a spark of pride in knowing that this force had been assembled by him. Damaskinos may have made the choices, but it was he who had actually gone around the world to round them up.

Nyssa glanced backwards as another roar of collective laughter erupted from the back. Chupa and Priest had come up with some sort of joke about Blade being able to blush, a joke that Asad or Nyssa didn't understand, but even Lighthammer was smiling while the side of Snowman's mouth was quirked upwards slightly.

Asad pulled the van to a stop inside the warehouse. The laughter instantly silenced, almost in awe; but most likely in disgust or anger, maybe even both. Verlaine looked like she might start sulking again, but as Lighthammer helped her out the back of the van, she kept it at bay.

He had just stepped out of the van when Scud's head poked around the corner. Priest spotted him and snapped at Scud like a wild dog, causing him to jump a foot in the air and quickly disappear behind the shelves.

"I'll get Blade," Nyssa said to him. She glanced at the Bloodpack; as one, they were already heading to the railings that lined one side of the warehouse. Reinhardt and Whistler were giving each other the evil eye.

Snowman leapt up nimbly onto the railing, giving Verlaine a hand as she climbed up onto it as well. Lighthammer took up guard in front of her and she wrapped her arms around his huge chest, pressing her cheek against his. Her red hair was in stark contrast to his bald head.

Chupa, Priest and Reinhardt took up positions, Priest opting to stand next to Lighthammer and Chupa next to him. Reinhardt was at the corner, choosing a low-key position. They waited. Scud and Whistler glared at them and they did a good job of glaring back. Verlaine whispered into Lighthammer's ear and he nodded every so often. Chupa and Reinhardt were muttering to each other, probably plotting something. Priest had a sort of amused expression plastered on his face, like he was keeping another joke to himself but couldn't kept that small smile off his face. Snowman, as usual, was stoic and unflappable.

"They're ready when you are," Nyssa said from upstairs. Asad could hear it, loud and clear. She added, "Daywalker."

Nyssa descended the stairs first. Blade was soon behind her and Asad turned to the Daywalker as silence again came down upon the Bloodpack.

"Blade, meet the Bloodpack." He did a half-turn to indicate the motley crew assembled on the railings. "Lighthammer" — the Dane's gaze was challenging — "Verlaine" — she looked up from where she had been nuzzling Lighthammer — "Priest" — the comedian gave a half-wave — "Snowman" — the Asian gave an old sign of greeting one's respected enemy, touching his chest and chin and topping it off with forming a rotated L-shape with his fingers — "Chupa" — he stopped muttering to Reinhardt, turning to look at Blade, as if daring him to do something — "and Reinhardt."

Reinhardt stepped forward, ending his conversation with Chupa. He strode boldly forward and came to a stop just in front of Blade. Asad started to get nervous; strife was not what they needed right now, early in their alliance with the daywalker. It could spell disaster.

"Hey, chief," Reinhardt started, gesturing at his friends. He spoke as if Blade was not the Vampire Nation's mortal enemy. "Me and the gang were wondering..." He muttered something that even Asad could barely catch. What was Reinhardt trying to do, sabotage their mission before it even started?

"What was that?" Blade asked.

Reinhardt grinned. "Can you blush?" he repeated smugly.

The Bloodpack laughed. And the rest, as they say, is history.

**_The End_**


End file.
